Into the Fire
by Dave Philpot
Summary: Captain Picard returns to his days of diplomacy as captain of the newly commissioned - and untested - Enterprise-E. His first assignment is to view a petition by a new planet for entry into the Federation, but the Romulans want to take advantage as well.
1. Chapter 1

A blaring red alert klaxon and a flash of bright white sparks from the fore of the bridge brought Captain Jean-Luc Picard back to reality. Blinking hard, he moved his hand over the back of his almost entirely bald head, attempting to soothe the pain that emanated from it, albeit without much success. He felt another hand clamp onto his right arm, that of his sturdy and ever-faithful Number One, Commander William Riker. Still dazed, the older man was pulled upward to a standing position, where giddiness nearly overcame him again, but Riker was there, waiting for the customary stumble. Sitting back down in his seat, central to all on the bridge, Picard looked around at his hard-working and, at the moment, preoccupied crew.

A green disruptor blast flared across the viewscreen, signalling to Picard where he was and what the current situation was. The USS _Enterprise_-E was being "road-tested" in battle against a formidable opponent; a Romulan warbird, naturally. Picard had expected nothing less – any other ship bar the _Galaxy_-class would have been left alone by the proud Romulans, who seemed almost Klingon in their bid to conquer brand new ships operated by Starfleet in an effort to improve on their own technological advances.

At last feeling better, with his vision back in focus, Picard nodded a gesture of thanks to his first officer, who sat back in his own seat to Picard's right-hand side.

'Mr Data, report.'

The android sitting at helm in front of Picard tapped away with practised ease at his console. 'We have lost power to decks 18 through 21, Captain. Shields are at a combined total of 41%. We have 518 photon torpedoes and 31 quantum torpedoes at our disposal. Phasers are becoming ineffective against the enemy's shields, and our warp drive is inoperable.'

_Bad news_, thought Picard, leaning back to take advantage of any comfort his chair could offer him. The ship rocked violently for the umpteenth time, but Picard held on, using the armrests at his side for support. 'Mr Data, full axis rotation to port. Mr Worf, aft torpedoes, fire.'

'Aye sir,' came the deep-voiced reply from the Klingon. Data simply nodded, and sent the ship into the correct manoeuvre. Picard watched the viewscreen, which was constantly locked onto the warbird _T'Mereth_, and saw four orange balls of light race unhindered toward the warbird. There was a flash of light as the torpedoes connected with the Romulan shields, but none of them seemed to get through them. The Romulans then decided to open fire, and three plasma torpedoes rammed into the _Enterprise_, causing one or two crewmen on the bridge – those unfortunate enough not to be holding on to a support or, like the captain, a chair – were thrown back amongst several consoles exploding. Picard thought about asking his chief engineer Geordi LaForge to increase power to the shields, by rerouting the extra energy from the warp engines, no longer being used, but the tireless taskmaster probably had his hands more than full right now.

'Captain,' said Data, turning to face his commanding officer. 'Our shields have failed. We have multiple hull breaches. I am also detecting several transporter signals all over the ship. I believe the Romulans are boarding us, sir.'

A new siren rang out, signalling intruder alert. Worf quickly deployed his security teams from his station, and pulled a phaser from a nearby locker, embedded in the wall. The Klingon would fight the _RomuluSngan_ to his bitter end, if necessary.

_Damn_. They'd held out for so long, and the ship had performed admirably, but most captains would succumb to the only option available at this point. Picard, ever the tactician, found another, and implemented it.

'Commander,' he said, looking round at Worf, who was working with his phaser in one hand. 'Activate four photon torpedoes but don't fire them.'

Worf shot a puzzling glace at Picard, but restrained himself from asking why. He knew the captain well enough to trust his instincts.

'Torpedoes armed,' he declared.

'Number One, when the Romulans beam over their next landing party, I would like you to transport the torpedoes over to their engineering section.' Picard did his best to hide the concern in his voice. This plan could easily backfire, and they would only have a few seconds – at best – to act.

Riker worked his controls and looked back at Picard. 'Transporters standing by, sir.'

'Mr Worf, how are our security teams doing?'

'They are being overwhelmed, Captain, replied the Klingon, 'but only on the lower decks. Deck 5 is clear of Romulans and there is no immediate threat to the bridge crew.' Worf seemed to be scanning the room at every opportunity to make sure the Romulans didn't suddenly surprise them all.

A few, blissful seconds passed, when no disruptor or torpedo was fired, before Commander Deanna Troi exclaimed, 'The Romulans are dropping their shields! Transports in progress!'

Picard turned to Riker. 'Now, Number One.'

Riker began the transport sequence, sending the torpedoes on their way to—

_BOOM_. A huge explosion shoved everyone toward the front of the bridge, save for Data and the ensign at navigation. Amid debris, smoke and flames, Picard looked up for the second time in this battle from the floor, this time at Data.

'The containment field is destabilising! Warp core breach in—'

A sharp, white light penetrated Picard, causing him to cover his eyes for a few seconds. When he took his hands from his face, he saw the grey monotone of the ceiling. Looking around, he viewed his entire senior staff and several other officers standing around, some with hands on hips. Being helped to his feet for the second time that day, this time by Worf, Picard sighed. 'Well, that didn't go so well.'

LaForge stepped forward. 'I'm guessing the torpedoes went off in the transporter buffer, huh?'

Picard nodded in agreement. 'They probably ruptured the EPS grid that sends power to the containment field. I thought another one would have kicked in.'

'Me too. Guess the grid wasn't quick enough today. Oh well, it's only the fourth time we've tried to beat a warbird and failed.'

_Failed_. The word almost hammered into Picard. He was, however, grateful they had only been on the holodeck, or they wouldn't be here and having this conversation right now.

'Well,' said Riker, standing up tall, making him head and shoulders above the group of senior officers now making their way to the exit, and on to the real _Enterprise_-E. 'I particularly liked today's tactic. May use that myself someday.' He grinned his quite boyish grin, causing Geordi to sigh and roll his eyes.

'Let's hope,' added Picard, 'you don't suffer the same fate we just experienced. Anyway Will, you won't take command of any ship. You've turned down so many opportunities, Starfleet may stop asking soon.' Picard shot Riker a grin of his own, causing the first officer to recoil with the universal "_who, moi?_" gesture. Beverly Crusher, the ship's CMO, laughed out loud. 'They may even let you skip a captaincy and make you an admiral!'

'That wouldn't be so bad,' replied Riker, rubbing his beard. 'I'd be able to order Captain Picard around!'

Picard turned just as he was about to round a corner. 'Don't count on it, Number One,' he warned, pointing his finger at his target, letting loose a smirk.

The officers laughed, a good end to a particularly difficult day. Picard dropped his arm to his side. 'I'm afraid I'll have to call it a night. My head needs to recover from several impacts with the floor.'

'No argument there,' said Troi, moving alongside her _Imzadi_, Riker.

Picard continued. 'We'll have a staff briefing at 0800 hours tomorrow morning, where we can discuss today's events with a refreshed memory. Goodnight all.'

'Goodnight,' echoed the officers, who split off into smaller groups and headed for their quarters. Picard did the same. Passing several delta shift crewmen making their way to their duty stations, Picard arrived at a turbolift. Directing it to Deck 2, the lift whirred into life, climbing first, then moving horizontally until it stopped in the aft section of the _Enterprise_'s second-highest deck. Once the doors parted, Picard walked the short distance to his quarters, the doors to which parted as he approached them. Resisting the temptation to yawn too much, Picard decided to lie down straight away, so as to sleep as much as he could. In the silence, Picard was left alone with his thoughts, but he wouldn't sleep on that alone.

'Computer, music.'

The computer chirped its acknowledgement. 'Please specify.'

'Something slow by Edvard Grieg. Minimal volume.'

Another chirp. Then the gentle but haunting melody of _Shepherd's Boy_ began, entrancing Picard, willing him to sleep. As the music began to strengthen, he thought of his new ship. It was nothing like the _Enterprise_-D, that much was certain. It was also a fine ship, albeit its flaws. Then again, wasn't any new ship subject to these problems as well?

But this wasn't just any new ship. This was to be the Federation's flagship, the largest in the fleet, the pride of the Federation. It would face many challenges over, as Picard hoped, many years.

_Probably including battles with Romulan warbirds_.


	2. Chapter 2

Trujil Yarh Besak began his ascent by climbing the wide steps that led to the Congress chamber in the Royal Hall of Asyid. He had scaled these steps nearly a thousand times – _literally_, he mused, as he nearly ran into an overseer going back towards the city streets outside. Moving aside, he continued his journey upward, stopping every interval to catch his breath. _These stairs are meant for slow people. They can deliberate internal affairs in the trip. They can even finish their meeting _before _they get to Congress_, he thought, wearily making his way up the last set of steps, which opened out into a reception area. Walking down the long, antiquated hall with its polished floor, Besak followed the route he always took. Left into an antechamber, and up to the 23-foot tall doors that stood between him and the Congress chamber. Knocking three times as was customary, he waited for the signal to proceed, which followed moments later. Making himself slightly more presentable, now his ascent was over, Besak opened the doors and entered the chamber.

He found himself in a dome, with high reaching seats surrounding the entire auditorium. Taking eight carefully counted steps forward, Besak kneeled, and then arched his head forward as was traditional, before stating 'Eschele my'po'l, gabor.' _My blessings to you, my Master_. Raising his head, he saw _rek_ Hyusa Mij Wasum wave to him, indicating for him to stand, as his greeting had been accepted.

'Welcome, _leh_ Besak.'

'Greeting to you, _rek_ Wasum. If I may take my place?'

'I would be honoured. You bring good news I believe.'

Besak took his place in a sparsely filled box, to a position where his leader could see him.

'I do, _rek_. Our final tests on the _ketu_ propulsion drive have been completed, with success. We are in the process of fitting our shuttle ships with this technology. Once it has been installed, we will be able to travel to our neighbours amongst the stars.' Murmurs of excitement rose through the chamber. This had been the one breakthrough that had been near impossible to accomplish. It had taken 82 periods to research, and another 19 to test the drive system. Many had lost their lives, but Besak consoled himself with the opinion that it was all in the name of progress. Unfortunately, not everyone had agreed with that opinion, put forward by their esteemed leader himself, but now Besak believed they realised that such sacrifices were bound to happen anyway.

'This is good and blessed news, _leh_. You must be commended for your efforts.'

Applause, though quiet at first, sprang to life in the chamber. Besak couldn't help but smile. 'Your words mean much to me, my leader. But I alone cannot accept them. Many others deserve to hear this.'

'Then you will pass on our gratitude to them,' said Wasum, obviously not wanting to turn this into a debate. '_Leh_ Besak, I wish for you to stay whilst we discuss our next item of business.'

Besak sat down, as did anyone else not already doing so. 'As you know,' started Wasum, his sonorous voice resonating through the dome, 'we have been applying for membership with many empires that surround our humble people. They are the Romulan Star Empire, the Gorn Hegemony, the Federation and the Teskit Alliance. I would like for each of you to make your recommendations based on the data we have on each of them. We will vote when we are in session tomorrow. Does anyone have any comments?'

The chamber was silent for only a moment. 'With all blessings, _rek_,' said one woman, standing as she spoke. 'The Romulan Star Empire prefers order over all else. We would not have the freedom to do as we please.'

'Ah,' replied Wasum. 'You forget. The Romulans are a very proud people, and are we not like them? Look at what we are accomplishing. Every day we feed ourselves more and more, our healthcare gets better and our technological breakthroughs could do with some extra help.'

'Does not the Teskit Alliance offer valuable resources? They have minerals which would be used in our scientific endeavours. Would they not be a reasonable ally?'

'I do not believe so.' A third voice entered the conversation, turning all heads. Wasum looked around, trying to find it.

'Who dares address this assembly without the proper introduction?'

The third man bowed his head. 'My sincere apologies and blessings, my Master. I did not intend offence.'

Wasum lifted his head. 'Your apologies are accepted, High Ambassador Ejol. You may speak.'

High Ambassador Yas Nemdy Ejol elevated himself on the small platform in front of him. He was still a relatively young person in the eyes of the public, which defied his 52 periods of age, making him an elder by right, and also meaning he'd probably be dead within 10 periods. Such was the way of life in society.

'The Teskit Alliance is minute in comparison to the Romulan Empire and the Federation,' he started. 'Whilst their resources would prove to be a worthy addition to our civilisation, we wouldn't be offered the same level of protection. I think the Federation can offer us both resources and protection.'

'Outrageous!' began the woman who had spoken earlier. 'Did you hear about their treaties with the Cardassians? They ordered colonists, who had lived quite happily on the same planet for a few hundred years to relocate within a few weeks, as the planet would be changing hands.'

'They were colonies, my lady, not entire civilisations. It is a completely different concept. The Romulans have attempted to move societies before, but with varied levels of success.'

Wasum held up both hands and silenced the pair. 'Does anyone have any thoughts on this Gorn empire?'

A cacophony of voices plunged the auditorium into chaos. Everyone wanted their say now, even if it was to continue the "Federation versus Romulans" debate. Wasum found his amply located metal _ilik_ under his rostrum, designed specifically to be used in special occasions. This was special enough. Banging it sharply against the stand, the crowd immediately hushed, allowing Wasum to point out the first speaker.

'The Gorn are quite territorial, and an aggressive species at that, _rek_,' he began. 'We could be overwhelmed by them if we don't pay attention.'

'A fair point.'

'I have another option, if this congress will allow it.'

Wasum gesticulated with his hands. 'Please.'

The speaker needed only one word. 'Klingons.'

If nothing else, it provoked the biggest reaction yet. Shouts emanated from the crowd, the words "hostile" and "demanding" being overused. Wasum smashed his _ilik_ into the rostrum again, and the shouting stopped.

'I think we have more than enough on the table already, my people. We shall recess until our vote tomorrow.'


	3. Chapter 3

Again, there was no silence, just the way Picard liked it. His eyes shut, he drew in another breath of arid air from the dusty winds of Vulcan's Forge. That was, the holodeck's recreation of it. Beverly was beginning to think that he was becoming a holoaddict just like Reginald Barclay had been. Well, he certainly knew who to go to for advice on not becoming a holoaddict – Reg had joined who he described as the "motley crew" on the new _Enterprise_, serving as one of Geordi's assistants.

Picard breathed again, listening for any _sehlat_s that might be wandering around in the desert, but there were none. He had changed the program slightly, by getting rid of the sandstorms that occasionally ravaged the area, to give him a good few hours of meditation. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed the running challenge of course, having won the Danula II marathon as a freshman. _A _long _time ago now_.

Picard went through his mind how he'd arrived at this point, sitting at Vulcan's Forge, meditating. He had supposed that it was an after-effect of his mind-meld with Sarek, Spock's father and fellow diplomat, several years ago, but it had never really kicked in until now. Maybe he was just enjoying the peace it brought him. Picard was glad of one thing – he had taken on board Sarek's violent mood swings during those negotiations, but now he mused that he was being a "calm" Vulcan. Basically, being normal, but Picard felt emotion.

From behind him, a pneumatic hiss was heard, as the holodeck doors slid open. _Probably Beverley checking up on me and my holoaddiction_. Picard heard solid but slow footfalls, and knew that the person who had entered the room was in fact Commander Riker, no doubt taking in the view. Picard opened his eyes and swivelled round.

'Will, how nice to see you.'

Riker stooped down to a crouch, an almost sarcastic look spreading across his steadily aging face. 'I didn't know you meditated.'

Picard smiled. 'Neither did I. The benefits of Vulcan mind-melds, eh?'

His first officer looked around once more. 'Would this be the legendary Vulcan's Forge?'

'The one and only.' Picard gazed across at the Summit of T'Kara, its sharp, jagged façade inviting only the most daring to scale it; after all, it was the only way to climb to the top.

'I've always wanted to come here. Well, the real Vulcan's Forge.'

'Tell you what,' Picard started. 'Next time we're at Vulcan we'll send an away team to the Forge.'

Riker grinned. 'Is this your version of the away team or mine?'

The two laughed. Picard always had a fixation against one of Starfleet's regulations, where away teams had to be led by the first officer. He preferred to go himself, otherwise he would "feel like an admiral" as he had once put it. Naturally, if Picard went, Riker rarely would. It had become something of a habit. Riker had the tendency to remind Picard of the regulations he knew very well – whether he still did it because he had to or because he wanted to was debatable, but it had become a running joke amongst the senior staff.

'Anyway, back to business. Come to deliver a message, Will?'

'Yes, sir.' The first officer got to his feet, performing the "Picard Manoeuvre" – where someone pulled down his jumpsuit to straighten it out, another in-joke on the _Enterprise_ – and continued. 'The voices of diplomacy are at your door once again.'

'Oh?'

'The Federation Council asked me to inform you of a petition made for entry into the Federation by a race that we know next to nothing about. They wanted to send their top man right away, and as this ship hasn't been doing much besides battle drills on the holodeck…'

'Hmmm.' Picard wiped a thin layer of dust from his face, blown there by the gusty and thickening wind. 'In other words they want us to be the middle man – sending us there, and then we can relay information to the Council instead of their sending a representative. How thoughtful.' The captain had been the Council's "puppet" many times – he was evidently very good at being a diplomat, he thought, with a smile. With the most first contacts under his name than any other Starfleet captain in history, Picard was the obvious choice. 'Still, duty calls. Where is this place?'


End file.
